


Seraphi Abrasax's A+ Parenting

by rei_c



Series: When Memories Live Again [1]
Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Chamber Presence - Freeform, Cruelty, Entitled - Freeform, F/F, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Splices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Seraphi Was The Worst Parent Ever To Balem and One Time She Was The Best</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_One_.

"An heir, Seraphi?" Elahanna Setheus asks, one hand fluttering up to cover her mouth. "Surely you jest. Why would you need one, when you've been running your house's business flawlessly?" Elahanna looks around, then leans forward and playfully whispers, "I'm not the only who thinks so, you know. Half of the people in this room would just as soon marry you as kill you to get their hands on Abrasax Industries." 

Seraphi laughs; the sound is delicate and chiming as it echoes around the large gathering room, drawing attention her way. Seraphi can feel eyes on her, stares from every direction, and she knows which ones are desirous, which envious, which murderous. Elahanna isn't wrong and Seraphi loves that she has such power, to laugh once in a room of nobility and garner such interest. 

She covers up a smile by sipping at her drink and once she's licked her lips, swallowed, she gives Elahanna a saucy look, drawls, "Oh, don't worry, dear. Even _with_ the promise of RegeneX at the other end, I'm not going to carry it myself. No, I've been scouting out different manufacturers over the past few months, trying to determine which might be best to suit my needs. I would like the first child to be the only child -- you know my thoughts on children -- but it does depend quite an awful lot on what specific requests I have for its creator."

"Not a human, then?" Elahanna asks, her eyes wide with shock. "Are you -- Seraphi, please don't tell me you're considering a splice." 

"I don't know whether to be shocked or outraged by the suggestion, Elahanna-dear," Seraphi says. It's clear from the tone of voice that Seraphi has, in fact, chosen to be both, and the steel in her eyes is a clear rebuke. Elahanna nods in apology and doesn't lift her head to meet Seraphi's eyes again. "But I suppose I can forgive the unintended slight." 

Elahanna's gaze darts upwards and the ripple of tension that crossed her shoulders a moment ago smoothes out. "A splice," Elahanna says, with a fake chuckle. "How could I have even thought it. Silly me." 

Seraphi hums, takes another sip of her drink and studies the row of barely-clothes splices along the wall. It's been a while since she's had a splice, especially one designed to please the nobility as these are -- and these are well-made indeed. 

"I think, perhaps, I'm bored with conversation right now," Seraphi says, gesturing for one of the barely-clothed splices along the wall. As the splice weaves through the socialising Entitled, Seraphi watches the muscles in its legs ripple, studies the long graceful line of its neck, the way its skin is so thin that Seraphi can see the veins pulsing beneath. 

Incredibly well made.

"But be assured, Elahanna: my heir will be human," Seraphi says absently. "And with my genetic inheritance. Just -- with a few extras as well. Nothing but the best for House Abrasax." 

"Naturally," Elahanna murmurs. 

The splice reaches Seraphi and Elahanna and drops to its knees, resting its hands on its thighs. Seraphi reaches out, traces her thumb over the splice's lips, then pushes its head to one side, baring its mark. 

Ah. Yes, she's seen this brand on quite a few of her favourites. The manufacturer seems to prefer grace and beauty over strength and stamina. 

Seraphi releases the splice and steps back, head tilted to one side in thought. Any heir of hers will need grace, will need beauty, and physical strength, well. No member of House Abrasax needs strength when there are any number of splices and androids available for purchase. Devotion and obedience, though, are the essential qualities, and Seraphi tosses her empty glass over her shoulder, careless of it hitting someone or shattering on the floor. 

In the sound of breaking glass, Seraphi wraps the splice's hair in her hand. "Do excuse me, Elahanna," she tells her companion without breaking her focus on the splice. "Market research." 

Elahanna laughs as Seraphi drags the splice away from the main gathering. There's really only one way to test a splice's level of devotion and obedience; Seraphi will enjoy breaking this one down to bare bones to see if she can find both. 

If her search is fruitful, Seraphi has an appointment to make with a manufacturer.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two._

"Mother, I want to be taller. _Mother. **Mother!**_ "

Seraphi doesn't look away from the latest financial sheaves her refinery managers brought to her, waiting for her to decide if they're doing well enough to stand up from where they're all kneeling across the floor. "Balem, you just took a RegeneX bath last week when you broke your arm chasing those puppy splices through the ship."

"But -- but mother," Balem says, trailing off before he can start to beg, but there are spots of colour high in his cheeks.

"Balem," Seraphi says before she finally tears her eyes from the sheaves and looks at Balem. He's visibly deflating under her sharp gaze, turning his face to the floor and seeming to shrink as if he wants to hide. "Stand up straight," Seraphi snaps. "You're an Abrasax, the First Primary of the House of Abrasax and heir to the most profitable and powerful industry in the universe. Act like it."

He swallows but lifts his head, nose pointing up in the air. His shoulders even out and the splice nanny behind Balem lets out a sigh of relief. Seraphi turns her eyes on the splice; it's obviously not doing enough to teach her son what being an Abrasax means but Balem does have an attachment to it that has proven useful -- and quite entertaining -- in the past. The feathers around the splice's neck shiver with nerves at having Seraphi's attention and Seraphi bites back a smile at the sight, one that disappears as she narrows her eyes, thinking. She paid a pretty penny for this particular splice's customisation but Balem and the future of her family are much more important than whatever coin she tossed at its manufacturer. It might be time to trade in the nanny for a tutor, something strict, appropriately reverent. 

"This is as tall as you should be right now and you know that, my darling," she coos, turning her attention back to Balem, stroking two fingers down his cheek and under his chin, lifting his head so he meets her eyes. "Why do you want to be taller?"

Balem tears his eyes away from Seraphi, opens his mouth once, twice, three times without speaking. 

Seraphi clucks her tongue in rebuke. "First Primary, Balem," she says. "Do not make me regret your creation. It would be nothing for me to get rid of you and start again with a different child." 

The colour leaves Balem's face. It's a beautiful sight, those delightful freckles dotting his pale-as-cream skin, and Seraphi thinks that she'd regret the loss of this child if it ever proves necessary. 

"House Abrasax is the best house, Mother," Balem says, and though his voice shakes, he doesn't stutter, doesn't hesitate -- also doesn't meet Seraphi's eyes, choosing instead to focus his gaze at a point on her forehead. "The most powerful house. I do not -- I do not look like it. If I was taller, I would." 

"What, be worthy?" Seraphi asks, laughing, as she cuts off her son mid-sentence. "Don't be ridiculous, Balem. Of course you don't look it, you're still a child. I promise," and she leans down, reaches out her arms and gathers Balem to her, embraces him tightly and whispers in his ear. "I promise, my darling, that one day you will do this house proud."

Balem pulls back from her, just enough to show her the proud tilt of his head, the iron in his eyes, the solemn set to his mouth. "I will, Mother. Every day." 

Seraphi runs her hand through Balem's hair; he has just enough time to close his eyes and arch into the touch before she pulls back. "Let me work now, Balem. You want to inherit a house worthy of you just as much as you're worthy of it, yes?" 

She picks up the sheaves again, waves for the nanny splice to come and take Balem, and he leaves with a murmured, "Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother."


	3. Chapter 3

_Three_.

"No," Seraphi says.

"Mother, it could," Balem starts to say.

Seraphi claps her hands together in his face and he flinches, stepping backwards. " _No_ ," she says again. She can see the instant Balem hears the implacable rage in her voice, watches with something approaching satisfaction as he gives in to her will.

Balem lowers his head just an inch but it's enough to make Seraphi smile. "May I ask why, Mother?" he says, softly. There's no curiosity in his voice, just regret and self-loathing for upsetting her. "I supervised the advocates directly; the contract gives us all the power. House Abrasax benefits to such a degree that." 

He stops, again, cut off by a gesture from Seraphi -- this time she holds up a hand and the room is immediately filled with a heavy, weighted silence. Seraphi walks around Balem, letting her hand drag across his shoulders and back as she circles him once, twice. Finally, she stops next to him, gazing with Balem out into space, the blank and beautiful blackness that Seraphi tried to capture in Balem's hair though nothing alive could ever come close. 

"You will not marry this girl," Seraphi says, quietly, but there is steel in her voice. "You are correct: the contract was well-written and trust me, I didn't miss the riders in the third amendment, very good work. But you wasted your time, Balem. Abrasax Industries doesn't need them or their third-rate product. House Abrasax will not demean itself by uniting with a lower house -- and _all_ houses are lower compared to ours. And you are not free to marry." 

She can feel Balem's hesitance as he asks, "Mother?"

It's clear from that one word, the utterance of her title, that he's asking what proscriptions there are against a possible marriage alliance. Seraphi could smack him; after thirty-five thousand years, after what they've been, what they _are_ , has he been too blind to see it? 

"You are _mine_ , Balem," and he turns, looks at her with something approaching shock. " _My_ son, _my_ heir, _mine_. You were made for _me_ and you are not _available_ for anyone else. Do you understand?" 

"I -- yes, Mother," he says. 

Seraphi glances at him, rolls her eyes at the expression on his face. "I never thought I would have to say it so bluntly, my darling. I gifted you with as much intelligence as I myself possess." 

Balem drops to his knees, bends his neck so that his hair brushes against the top of Seraphi's feet. She's not wearing shoes; when he bends enough to kiss her toes, a thrill of possessive excitement runs down Seraphi's spine. His lips have always felt like silk to her skin.

"Forgive me, Mother," he murmurs. He looks up at her, his eyes brimming with tears. "I didn't mean to disappoint you or overstep my bounds. Please forgive me, Mother. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you -- I'll do anything to please you." 

"I know you will," Seraphi says, but it's an absent comment as she gazes down at Balem and drinks in the reverence he's showing. "The contract hasn't been signed; find a way to politely tell them it won't ever be. And then find a way to destroy their house and their business for even daring to think they're worthy of an Abrasax." She pauses, waits until Balem's nodded in understanding, and then adds, "For daring to think they're worthy of _my_ Abrasax." 

Balem swallows but his eyes gleam. If she didn't know better, Seraphi might think that Balem orchestrated this whole episode to hear her say those words; he wouldn't dare to displease her, though. No, if he'd wanted to hear her claim on him, he would have asked another way. 

"I understand, Mother," he says, and he gathers his breath, his courage, to add, "And I never -- I know I'm not worthy of you but I will try, Mother, I _swear_."

Seraphi offers Balem a hand, helps him stand, and then runs her hand through his hair, settling on the curve where neck meets shoulder. "No one will ever be worthy of the Matriarch of House Abrasax," she says, gentle now. "But you have come close at times." She leans forward, kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth, and then turns, goes back to her desk and the sheaves scattered over it. "Take care of it, Balem, and take care with your own plans. I will not accept another error of this magnitude."

Balem stands there for a long moment that stretches out, turns infinite, before he says, "Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother."


	4. Chapter 4

_Four_.

" _The First Primary of House Abrasax, Vice President of Abrasax Industries, Lord Balem, has arrived, your majesty._ "

Seraphi, sitting on a cushioned bench in her sitting room, feet propped up on a splice's back while another massages her feet, doesn't look up from the sheave in her hands. "Yes, yes," she tells the chamber presence. "Have the alcazar send him this way and then turn yourself off. You've become quite irritating."

" _Apologies, your majesty. I will indeed have the alcazar's intelligence inform the First Primary of House --_." 

"Off _now_ ," Seraphi snaps. The chamber presence dies with an audible hum of sadness, and Seraphi gestures for one of the androids at the wall to come closer. When the android has dropped to one knee beside her and lowered its head, Seraphi tells it, "Inform the alcazar's intelligence to reprogram the chamber presence. Again. And be sure to let it know how displeased I am with this latest attempt at manipulation -- not least because it was ridiculously sloppy." She turns narrowed eyes on the android and adds, "Be sure to tell it that I will not hesitate to reprogram _it_ as well." 

The android nods, murmurs, "At once, majesty," and rises, backing away five steps before turning and bounding to the door. The door slides open just as the android is approaching; the android stops, steps to one side, and bows low as Balem sweeps in. "My lord," the android says, before running off to follow directions. 

Seraphi watches this happen above the sheave, takes in Balem's face, colour in his cheeks like blood spreading through milk, and sighs. He's heard about her latest decision, then. Kalique serves her purpose well but she _does_ enjoy poking at Balem's weak spots.

Balem stands in front of her but doesn't speak, not until she sighs and sets the sheave aside to look up at him. 

"What," Seraphi says, and universe above, she's growing _tired_ of this. Oh, the petty infighting of her children has been amusing, both to her and to the rest of the Entitled, but if Balem hasn't learnt to be sure of his place by now, she despairs of him ever doing so. 

"Mother," Balem says. He stops there, tilts his head an infinitesimal degree to one side, and Seraphi can see the moment that Balem loses the courage to doubt her, the will to question her. Instead of charging ahead the way he came stalking into the room, Balem says, "Kalique told me that you've been to see a manufacturer recently. Have I upset you, Mother? I know the early harvests haven't lived up to our short-term forecasts but the long-term outlook over the few millennia is quite good and Kalique has already done damage control with the Aegis regarding the refinery incidents." He pauses, then asks, "Is there more I can do, Mother? Is there something else I can do to please you?" 

Such a good boy, her Balem, and Seraphi allows a smile to flit across her lips. "Out," she tells the room at large, waving dismissively in the direction of the door. "Everyone, out. _Now_." All of the androids and splices in the room rush to obey, all except the splice she's using as her footstool; she had this one created without voice or hearing and while that has been -- tricky to navigate in the past, it at least means she can retain her comfort. 

Balem waits until the room is cleared before he, too, kneels on the floor, takes one of her feet in his hand and picks up the massage where the splice left off. Balem looks at her feet as Seraphi watches him, studies the tenseness in his shoulders and the way his lips, those gorgeous lips she has run her thumb over so many times before, are pressed tight together. 

"Darling," Seraphi says, half an endearment and half an order to look up at her. She waits until Balem obeys, the slight sheen in his eyes more telling than anything else about him. "You have occasionally lived up to my expectations," she tells him. "And you are still learning. The early harvests this year were a matter of expediency, nothing else, and the loss we took will even out when our product is the only RegeneX on the market worth using. As for your sister, she is doing exactly what I had her created to do, Balem. As you should be doing."

"What did you create me for, Mother," Balem asks quietly, thumb stroking back and forth over the arch of her foot, "if you have need for another son?"

Another son. No, Titus will not be her son, not like Balem. Titus will be pliant under her hands and hide wicked cunning behind an angelic face but Balem is her prize, so carefully created, every single aspect of him from the freckles on his shoulders to the ruthlessness he shows the world and the devotion he shows her. 

"Titus will be my tool," Seraphi murmurs, leaning forward and cupping Balem's cheek in her palm. He turns into the touch but still keeps his eyes on hers. "Much as Kalique is. You, Balem, are my _heir_. After all the years we've had together, I trust you can recognise the difference?" 

He's not reassured -- Seraphi is pleased with this, because she has never once in her life coddled Balem, never told him anything but the ungarnished truth, and she has done nothing to assuage his worries about his new sibling. And yet, he still closes his eyes, kisses her palm, and whispers, "Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother."


	5. Chapter 5

_Five_.

The view out of her pleasure clipper, especially circling Ivirítiki, should be stunning. It still is, she supposes, but it used to remind her that the universe contained multitudes of beauty. It's nothing to her now. The glacial mountaintops, the yellow plains, water the shade of an Orousian sunrise -- it doesn't move her at all. 

It's not just Ivirítiki, not just the Canubulum system; Seraphi has felt the same way for five thousand years. Perhaps she's felt it even longer. 

"Mother?" 

Seraphi turns her back on Ivirítiki and can't help the smile as she lays eyes on Balem. He's grown up so well, so perfect -- ruthless intelligence hidden behind such a deceptively delicate sheath of skin and bone and muscle. The other two children are decent enough, will serve as completely satisfactory Second and Third Primaries, but Balem will be the central jewel in House Abrasax's crown when she's gone. 

When she's gone. Seraphi has been thinking of it more and more over the past few millennia.

"Mother?" 

Seraphi shakes herself and lifts an eyebrow in question. 

Balem steps forward, hesitant in her presence and hers alone, which sends a flush of triumph down Seraphi's spine. He can whip the universe into submission but he would still kneel at her feet and lick her shoes if she so much as hinted it was her desire. "Mother, will you consent to a RegeneX bath? Please?" 

"You don't think I'm beautiful anymore, my darling?" Seraphi asks. 

"No -- no, that's not," Balem stutters before he gathers himself. "Of course I think you're beautiful, Mother. Nothing and no one is as beautiful as you." 

Even with deepening hollows under her eyes and a full head of white hair, the elasticity lost from her skin, he's completely serious. She has indeed done well with him. If she ever Recurs, she hopes the Recurrence is as strong as she is, to earn and deserve Balem's worship. The genes will be worthy of reverence but Seraphi knows all too well how easy it is to shape a child's personality. Universe grant her Recurrence strength of character and an irrepressible will.

"Mother?" 

Seraphi has been getting lost in thought more and more. Her mind is going, following the way of her body. 

"No, Balem," she says. "No RegeneX bath -- not yet, anyway." She looks out of the glass again, can hear as Balem closes the distance between them. He stops before he touches her but Seraphi can feel the heat of him, can hear him breathe, his pulse speeding at her proximity. "I was considering a trip down to Ivirítiki first. What do you think?" 

"If that's what you want, Mother," Balem murmurs. "I shall prepare a bath for when you get back." 

Seraphi pats her shoulder, feels Balem set his chin upon it a moment later, his hands resting gently, ever so carefully, on her hips. "I would like for you to come with me." 

Balem's breath hitches. "Of course, Mother. I'll ready a ship -- that is, if you want to go right now. I instructed the kitchen to make your favourites for dinner if you would prefer to wait for the morning." 

"Tomorrow will be soon enough," Seraphi says. 

In the silence, staring out onto the surface of Ivirítiki, Seraphi firms her decision. They'll eat dinner tonight. Balem will sleep in her room. And tomorrow they'll go down to the surface and Balem will kill her. 

It's time.

"Check on dinner," Seraphi tells Balem. "I'll be hungry before long and we should talk while we dine. I received the latest reports from the Jupiter refinery and you might consider replacing the manager at some point in the near future." 

Balem's hands tighten on her hips -- just for a moment -- before he kisses the nape of Seraphi's neck and steps back. "Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the encouragement and comments!!

_Plus One_.

Jupiter enters the med-bay cautiously, taking in the closed-off room at the back and the bustling splices and medical androids nearer the door. There's a human doctor she's spoken with as well around here somewhere but Jupiter doesn't see her. 

"Lady Jupiter," one of the splices says upon seeing her, going pale. "I -- I'm sorry, your majesty, we didn't know to expect you. The doctor is sleeping right now but we can wake her." 

"No need," Jupiter says, cutting off the splice even if she knows it's rude and would really rather not. "I'm just here to visit my -- uh -- Lord Balem. The doctor has been keeping me up-to-date." 

The splice nods, backs away, and Jupiter feels a dozen pairs of eyes on her as she walks to the private room at the back and slips inside. The room smells vaguely of antiseptic and ozone and there's a quiet hum that seems to fade into the background of her hearing, but her eyes are fixed on the figure in the bed, wide with something approaching horror. 

"Come to gloat?" 

Jupiter jumps; she hadn't been expecting to hear Balem speak, hadn't thought he'd say anything to her. "No," she says, and crosses the last distance between them, perching on the edge of a chair next to his bed. "I came to see how you're doing. They told me -- Kalique told me, actually, that some of the sargorns found you and kept you alive long enough for RegeneX. Why -- why aren't you healed?" 

Balem smiles, a hard and self-deprecating expression that sends goosebumps racing over Jupiter's arms. "RegeneX reverts our genes to their optimum," he says. "There have to _be_ genes for that to work. I left far too much of myself in the refinery to take one bath and come out whole." 

"I'm sorry," she says, and Balem looks at her, baffled. "It must hurt so much. I mean, unless they have some seriously good painkillers in space." 

There's no immediate response to that and Jupiter shifts in her chair, feeling awkward. Caine was right; she shouldn't have come. 

"Why are you really here?" Balem asks. "It's not because you care about me. I tried to kill you, after all, more than once, and I threatened to harvest your family." 

Jupiter shrugs and smiles helplessly. "I have no idea," she admits. She leans forward, reaches out and picks up Balem's hand with care she's never shown anything else in her life. "No one wanted me to. In fact, they wanted me to stay as far away from you as possible. Even Kalique." 

She'd been expecting him to pull away from her but, instead, he tightens his fingers around her, clinging as if he's never planning on letting go. "I'm glad you came," he says. "Surprised, but glad. But if you're looking for an apology, you won't get one." 

"I wasn't expecting one," Jupiter tells him, and something about the look in her eyes or the tone of her words has Balem visibly backing off, ceding to her. She thinks, in this moment, that if she asked him to beg for her forgiveness, he'd climb right out of the bed and drop to his knees, space painkillers or not. 

Seraphi did this to him. Seraphi turned him into this and Jupiter could kill her for it if Balem already hadn't. 

Jupiter swallows down her anger, bites back her rage, and when she's calm again, she says, "I've reopened the alcazar on Karyai. Kalique's been there the past few weeks trying to teach me about the family business and bring me up to speed on the Entitled Code."

"You can't trust her," Balem says. "You can't trust any of us." 

"Not yet," Jupiter replies. "But maybe someday. Kalique's earning it -- slowly, and it's more, y'know, one step forward, two steps back, but we'll get there. I -- I would like it if you came." Balem's eyes go wide. "The doctor here already said she'd come as well," Jupiter adds hurriedly, "to continue your treatment, and there's plenty of staff. Sunlight, too -- god, _days_ of sunlight -- and you'd be comfortable, have some privacy." 

Jupiter trails off and Balem stares at her for long moments before a shaky smile crosses his lips. "Yes, Mother," he says, and there's a glint of teasing in his eyes that makes Jupiter laugh instead of scowl. "Thank you, Mother." 

She squeezes Balem's hand before letting go, stands up and says, "I'll make the arrangements." Before she can think about what she's doing, she bends, kisses the only unblemished skin on Balem's forehead, and whispers, "I'm not your damn mother."


End file.
